Writing is more than just hard work. It's learning to discipline oneself even when the Muse refuses to cooperate. The practice of writing, day in and day out, regardless of whatever else goes on in one's life can often be a fruitless search. The empty page begins to have all the interest of a starched handkerchief. However, there are some authors who will write on anything, as did the Marquis de Sade, but he was a real oddity. Keeping a thought journal is a good idea, and a list of descriptive words or idea topics also helps a good deal. An old habit taught to me by a high school teacher was to write a 1000 word story ever day. Well, I'm not quite up to that every day, but it is a good practice to get into when one can. I find leaving a piece and then coming back to it later helps a good deal. Sometimes familiarity can be lethal to a writer. The other technique I enjoy is to try out a different premise, something so outlandish that it couldn't possibly relate to the story, but work it up anyway. The doors it opens in one's mind. I think that as writers we tend to sometimes limit ourselves to the small corridors of imagination we are so used to traveling in. It's good to get out there and just go someplace off the map sometimes.

I was just reading an article I saw from the Damascus Journal about the new doll that's taking the Middle East by storm, the Fulla Doll. Apparently she, Fulla, is an attempt by Muslim merchants to produce and sell a doll that will best represent the values that those of that religious persuasion would like to see their little girls emmulate. The doll is also said to replace the Western "Barbie" that apparently was once so popular in those countries. Fulla comes with her own Hijab, and in two different versions, one where is is in a black veil and the other she wears a full length coat over her hijab. The doll is dark haired and dark-eyed and comes with its own pink prayer rug. I find this so interesting, apparently the air waves are also under attack with commercials for all sorts of Fulla type accessories like, backpacks, linen, silverware, clothing, etc. I guess these days, you can try and produce a Muslium doll, but she's still going to have capitalistic values! Actually I thought the doll sounded rather interesting and will have to see if I can get my hands on one. I am curious though about the role of using a doll to get little girls to accept a way of life that they might not necessarily enjoy. I like to think that anything, be it a doll, book, etc., that promotes healthy ideas and intelligent exchange of ideas and promotes respect for ones parents, family, religion is good, but I am also concerned about the future of these little girls, who may not know they have other choices. Well, this is the way of mankind though, is it not? To persuade, teach, convert and educate one another into alternative spheres of influence. For good or bad, through the ongoing exchange of ideas and integration of cultures is what has produced the rich world of ideas, art and commerce that we have today. I hope this doll will do good and help these girls to have a better life, but I wish they knew that they had more choices and that what is represented through the Fulla doll is only one. However, to know that they may have to travel a long way from their homes. Who is to say what is good or bad as an influence on a child. Some of us in the West, who are familiar with the Middle East only as we see it portrayed from a negative perspective have the same blindness as those people living in the Middle East who see those in the West through similar eyes. I beleive that unless one is willing to accept that one's own country and culture is not anymore superior to another that progress toward a more integrated world class society will never be possible. What astounds me so much in the West is the concept of supremacy toward the East and what is it based on? Religion? Fear? For myself, at least, I do not think I am any better or worse than my sister on the streets of Egypt or Damascus or China or South Africa. In the end are we not all the same? Do we not all seek the same end to simply live, enjoy are families, seek our interests and enjoy them in comfort without the fear that we will be flung from our homes by the hands of someone to whom we are nothing more than grains of sand on a beach they seek to conquer. But I know better, individuality is what sets us all apart and is what makes us all so beautiful and yet the same, but in a way that when blended is spectacular! If we all spoke the same language, ate the same foods, read the same literature, used the same colors in our art, believed in the same gods would our world be better off or would it lack something rare and special. I think it would lack something rare and special, its soul. We are not all the same, it is the differences of culture that make us a mankind of unique and wonderful human beings.

I don't believe it, Hurricane Rita is heading for Louisana. It's supposed to hit Southwest Louisiana this time. Oh good, that means southeast Louisiana will be spared, oh yea! I don't really know what good it will do having southwest Louisana hit rather than Southeast Louisiana. The state can little afford having any part of it hit, again! Just when everyone is finally climbing out of the trenches and little manholes of despair along comes Rita, that bitch! It's like the gods are laughing at us while we scrabble around trying to survive from day to day, which could soon come down to hour by hour and then minute to minute.

I just got back from pt and half the staff and patients just wanted to get home and start packing up. Already the lines are forming at the gas stations, and grocery stores. Yesterday we finally took all the tap off the windows, well, let's just hope.....all we can do is hope.

Well, I finally got into a grocery store today, it was my fourth try in 3 days. I got tired of the polite gun-bearing military telling me "I'm sorry ma'am, but the store's closed." I finally got lucky. The Winn-Dixie in Ponchatula has gone back to almost normal hours; actually beyond normal - 6a. to 12midnight. I couldn't believe it. However, that didn't mean that I didn't have to stand in line or pick over what was left to buy. It wasn't too bad though. I noticed the store is starting to get a lot of their regular items back in that they weren't getting for most of the last 2 weeks. So, I was able to buy crossiants and good cheddar cheese, etc., again. I was actually able to get some lamb, which really surprised me, as it usually doesn't carry too much of that meat item. Possibly the vast influx of new population coming from New Orleans and Mississippi has a lot to do with this. I saw some food items I hadn't seen there before, so this may have something to do with it. I also noticed my hair salon was packed full, all the chairs busy, which certainly hasn't been the norm. This is great for the economy here in Hammond, it's been depressed for a couple of years, so the merchants are thrilled with all influx of new population. Now the question is how many will stay? Obviously the military won't, which is too bad as they are eating out during their R&R and a lot of restaurants are opening back up, etc. I'm glad to see the town coming to life. The one thing that I've always been so concerned about for Louisiana was how poor it's been, so perhaps, awful as it's been perhaps the hurricane will end up being a blessing in disguise for the State. The big question a lot of people, especially those closer to New Orleans, or from N.O. is are the gangs finally wiped out? I figure that even if they don't rebuild the housing projects, something a lot of people don't want done, that particular element will somehow worm its way back. That seems to happen no matter what is done. The only thing that would really make a difference is if the police dept. just decides they aren't going to mess around with that element anymore. We'll see.
It's amazing how some people, in spite of everything that's going on still manage to be selfish and rude. While in the grocery store, a woman who got in line behind me started talking to me and kept up a running commentary about how awful it was that we had to wait so long to checkout, 20 minutes, and that there weren't enough of certain food items. I couldn't believe her nerve! I told her that if she was from around here she'd have known most people were just glad to be able to get the food, and don't mind standing in line, at least the store was open. I guess some people are so enraptured with their own issues they forget how much luckier they are than others. When she mentioned aloud that she hoped things wouldn't stay this way for too long, someone else who also heard her told her to just get used to it and quit her complaining. I was surprised, as most Southerns are very polite, especially right now. However, I think they said what I was just too polite to say. Same thing basically, shut your mouth and be glad you can get the food at all!

I was reading over a little magazine I get from the children I sponsor in India, etc., and when I think about conditions here, knowing that even if they are the way they are for six months tops, which I doubt, we can go somewhere else to escape them. So many people in other countries, esp. children have so little hope or chance. We are so fortunate here in this country, we have opportunites other people will never, never have, opportunities they cannot even dream about, because they don't know such things as good medical care, decent food, warm clothing, etc., exist. Yet some people complain because they can't buy their favorite brand of diet root beer. I think the world's gone mad.

Sometimes when I'm listening to music, especially lyrics I'm just bowled over by the combination - how the words with the music can do what mere words cannot. Like listening to Robert Smith's lyrics from "Letter to Elise" and then the lyrics to "Bloodflowers" the lyrics are just about enough to make me want to just fall over dead, they are so beautiful, so simple, but perfect and then the music! What god came along and created The Cure? I'm sure it was one that loves mankind, well, some of mankind, I know a lot of people don't care for The Cure, my husband for one, but then he doesn't like most of my musical taste anyway. I listen over and over to Smith's delicately melancholic lyrics and am just awed by them. It makes me feel so useless with my attempts at poetry. "This tide never turns, you said, this night never falls I said, these flowers will never die." Robert Smith must have been born with poetry in his very fingertips and it just pours out.. "This world always stops I said, this wonder always leaves, the time always calls to say goodbye and these flowers will always die. Between you and me it's hard to ever really know who to trust, what to think, how to do. Between me and you it hard to know who to choose ... never flame, never die, you gave me flowers of love."

Ok, by now I've come to the realization that the gods have other plans for me right now. My going back to school just isn't part of them, I guess. Still, all in all I am so lucky. We finally got back home to Louisiana on Thursday night. Once we hit the main highway toward Hammond and the general New Orleans' area it was like entering another world. The military presence is everywhere! Not that I mind that so much, but it's just so odd, that along with the endless convoys of power trucks and passengerless buses; those last heading for all the shelters. Going to search for food to buy the next day was truly an experience I'll never forget. Wal-mart had just closed and there were five military present plus several cops, and a lot of unhappy citizenry milling about. One look on the faces of the military personnel said it all, don't f--- with us. So I turned around, got back in my car and tried Winn-Dixie. There was food still there for sale, but the lines at the check out stands were horrendously long. Still, food is food and one must eat to live, so I bought what I could. When I was leaving this time the military had moved to Winn-Dixie and there was a very long line of people winding around the front of the store, hopefully, waiting to get in and buy food. Well, they were going to have to wait until the next day. This military presence was this time inside the store, escorting the finished shoppers out and not letting anyone else in. I noted a change in their stance that wasn't present at Wal-Mart, now their guns were held across their bodies, not quite drawn, ready for use, but no longer were they slung over their shoulders like school bags.

Saturday going by the once always empty parking lot in front of Hammond's excuse for a mall, it has now become a vast staging area and is filled as far as the eye can see, and as there is parking space with military trucks of every type. A lot of folks were just milling about, standing in little groups, sharing a smoke, soda, etc., there were also about 50 buses or so. The evacuation process continues. In some ways see the military presence so rampant brings back my childhood memories of the Presido in SF with my dad and the days at Fort Miley during 'Nam. Some of those memories, though, well they aren't so good. I think I'll stop now.

Last night I dreamed mice where holding chariot races in our bathroom, the leader's name was Alexander. Okay, if I didn't have proof enough I've gone off the deep end, I do now.

Here I am safe in another state, my house made it through Kat's howls, snarls, and bites. Why am I so lucky? I don't feel lucky. I can't reach friends in New Orleans, and can only pray and hope and leave messages if their phones work. I know that man has no control over Nature and are fates are whatever they are met to be. But still I wonder why did I survive, surrounded by friends with my house intact, even with a little water, when so many did not or were tormented so? Sometimes I wonder if life is a wonderful enchantment or a horrible, vile, nightmarish dream.. Which is it? Or rather, I suppose I must ask myself how do I chose to see it and on which side of the river will I walk?

Oh, gods, why do you play so cruelly with us!!!! Okay, let's be honest here, I'm not really that upset that we have a possible category 4 hurricane bearing down on Southeast Louisana where I live. Just found out my first day of class has been cancelled. Tulane, being in New Orleans, that lovely city being under sea level is evacuating. I wonder is this the way the Pompeians felt when Vesuvius started to erupt. My husband is scurrying around madly to prepare and here I am, tapping my computer keys to enter this into my little journal. What a little brat I am. Well, okay, I do have an excuse, I can't walk very well right now. I hate having legs that don't work. Anybody want to trade? The truth is there's not a lot we can do. Later I'll go out and stock up on food and such, but we're in pretty good shape that way anyhow. What I really want to do is work on my next novel. Last night I sent my lastest edits to my editor and while I await her next batch it's back to another time and another place. If only it were Macedon and with Alexander. I'd love to be invisible then I could spy and he and his friends. What a bad person I am!

Well, it's taken me nearly twenty-two years, but I finally did it. I'm back on track. Today I went to Tulane's Classic's dept. to get myself back in the academic swing of things. Learning Latin won't be too hard, but the Greek, is a bitch! Still, I know I can do it. I'm most anxious to just get started, so much time has been lost already. My research for my book and the articles I'm working on have led me to this point. Here, hopefully I can study Alexander and his life, at peace. I can't wait for these new worlds to reveal themselves to me! Of course, since I left this all to the last minute, well it wasn't the last minute for me, since I've been in the hospital for an entire month and then gettig everything set up after the move down here, my plans got a bit sidetracked. Still, I got to speak with a wonderfully helpful woman, Jane Carter, in the Classic's dept. She was so kind and helpful. Then the madness began once I left her office. I got lost on the campus. I could feel the muscles in my legs pulling and straining, but I remembered Alexander and his march through the Gedrosian desert and told myself, 'don't be such a damn sissy! A little pain is good for the soul.' So I tramped along until reason overtook me and I decided to go back for my car and then drive to the admissions office, gee, I guess I should have done that in the first place, and got that taken care of. After a futile attempt to locate the finaicial aid office, I decided that not only was Rome not built in a day, neither was my acadmic career going to suffer a complete paralysis if I didn't get things set up immediately. So I limped to my car and sat and guzzled down a warm sprite. But, I felt good, I knew what I wanted, how to go about getting it and was momentarily satisfied. Time to go home. Key to ignition, the radio started, my favorite Linkin Park song soothed my tired mind and the blessed air conditioning kicked in and the car didn't, kick in, that is. It just sounded like it was coughing, sickly, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, over and over again. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! My quiet scream filled the air. Ok, time to call for help. Triple AAA sent a kind, helpful man, it just took him 70 minutes to get there, but I didn't mind as I waited in the 97 degree heat with the 100 percent humidity dripping down my face, washing my clothes for me. No, I was glad to have an improptu steam bath! I did finally make it home that night. All thanks to the goodness of Apollo. I hope this isn't a harbinger of days to come.